


Study Sessions

by iwouldforyou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Autistic Castiel (Supernatural), Bees, M/M, Studying, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 01:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwouldforyou/pseuds/iwouldforyou
Summary: Dean sucks at math. Love ensues.





	Study Sessions

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this three years ago and just dug it out of my docs. I may or may not add to it. Hopefully I will, because this is super cute. Also, no beta reader, we die like men.

“Mr. Singer.”

A larger boy in a lettered jacket was hunched over at his desk, doodling absentmindedly on his trigonometry notes. 

“_ Mr. Singer. _”

Next to his 30-60-90 triangle, two figures were battling some sort of fanged monster, while a small person crowned by a halo looked on. The halo was a bit smudged, so it looked more like a shroud covering the person below. The boy frowned, and tried to touch up the monster.

“Mr. Singer!”

His head jerked up at the teacher’s sharp tone, and several students around him giggled. He stared at his teacher in startled confusion. “Uh- what?”

The teacher glared at him disapprovingly. “Mr. Singer, I asked you the sine value of two-pi radians.”

He stared blankly at the board, then tentatively gave his answer. “Is it, um, one half?”

The teacher let out a sigh and lowered her glasses to look at the boy. “Mr. Singer, it seems you have taken one too many blows to the head on that wrestling mat you live on. Your consistent inability to grasp even the most basic concepts of trigonometry has left me no choice. You and Mr. Novak stay after class today, please.”

Upon mentioning of his name, a small boy in the back of the class’s head shot up. His eyes widened, and he appeared to shrink further into the baggy coat he was wearing. “Me?”

The teacher rolled her eyes. “Yes, you, Mr. Novak. Now, let’s continue with our notes…”

When the bell finally rang to finish class, the majority of the students took the logical course of action upon the ending of a math class and ran for the exit. Two students, though, stayed behind as their teacher instructed.

The two boys stood at their teacher’s desk, anxiously awaiting information.

“Mr. Singer, this is Castiel Novak,” she said to the first boy. “Mr. Novak, this is Dean.” 

Dean smiled at the smaller boy, who glared up at him with guarded suspicion. Dean frowned.

“Mr. Novak, I would like you to tutor Mr. Singer, as he obviously isn’t benefiting from in-class instruction.”

Dean groaned, and Castiel looked at the teacher with bewilderment. “Tutor him?” Castiel asked. 

“Yes, Mr. Novak,” she replied. “Arrange a time to meet at least weekly. Mr. Singer, I expect no less than a B on your next test.”

“A B? Seriously?” Dean shook his head and huffed. “Whatever, I guess.” 

The teacher frowned again. “ You two work out the details, I have to go run off some papers.” With that, she left the room, leaving the two to themselves.

“Um…” Dean started, trailing off. “I have practice on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and I have matches every other Saturday. I can skip Wednesday practice, though.”

Castiel shrugged, staring at the floor. “Next Tuesday is fine,” he mumbled.

“At the library, after school?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. I will prepare notes for our first session.” He shifted his books in his arms and walked out without a word. 

Dean looked on after him, sighing. “Well, this is gonna suck.” 

The next two days and the weekend passed without Castiel or Dean interacting at all, save for Dean’s occasional glances back at Castiel during math class. Dean noticed that Castiel wore essentially the same thing every single day- black sweatpants, a plain grey, white, or blue T-shirt, and the ever-present tan trenchcoat obscuring his frame. 

That Tuesday, Dean found his way to the library first, waiting at a table until that familiar trench coat walked in and joined him. Silently, Castiel arranged his calculator, textbook, notes, and pencils on the table in front of him. 

He then raised his head, looking at Dean’s collar, and said, “I was unsure of what exactly you find difficult, so I prepared notes on radian measure to begin our sessions.”

Dean sighed and flipped open his book to that lesson. “Sounds like fun.”  
  
Castiel cocked his head in confusion. “My understanding was that you did not particularly enjoy this subject. How is tutoring enjoyable?”

“I was being sarcastic,” clarified Dean. “This is actually pretty fucking awful. I still just don’t get why the hell we have to learn all this!” 

The other boy popped his lips a few times, and responded, “Taking and passing a trigonometry course is a standard set by the Kansas Board of Education.” Then, he abruptly shifted his attention to the notes in front of him and began teaching. “The measurement of a radian is defined as the angle that intercepts a an arc of equal length to the radius of a circle.”

Dean leaned back into the table, thrown off by Castiel’s sudden change of topic. “Um, so what’s an arc?”

The two boys studied for a while. Castiel’s technical but direct speech was making a lot more sense to Dean than the complicated half-explanations his teacher provided. They worked their way through radian measure and some basic problems before getting to sector area.

“A sector,” Castiel began, “is defined as the area of a circle bound by two radii and the connecting arc. Here-” Castiel paused to quickly draw a circle with a sector on the paper between him and Dean.

Dean’s eyes opened a bit wider and he made a noise of understanding. “Oh, like a piece of pie!”

Castiel looked at Dean in confusion. “No, it’s a piece of a circle.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Castiel. “Yeah, but they look the same, like- a slice of pie is made by two cuts outwards from the center of the pie, and a sector is made by two lines outwards from the center of the circle.”

Castiel still stared at Dean. “I suppose that is an adequate analogy, if it assists you in your understanding of the material.”

Dean shrugged, and ran his fingers through his short brown hair. “Um, yeah,” he said. “So, how do you find the area?” 

Dean was finding Castiel’s explanations incredibly helpful, and they ran through a fair amount of the chapter. Their session ended late in the afternoon, when the school library closed for the day. They packed up their things- Dean shoving everything haphazardly into his backpack, and Castiel methodically returning his belongings into their designated spots in his bag.

“So, same time next week?” Dean asked. 

Castiel nodded, and slung his backpack over his shoulders. “Correct.”

Dean stood in silence for a moment before continuing, “So, could I have your phone number, maybe?”

Castiel’s head jerked up, shifting his gaze from the floor to between Dean’s eyes. “What?”

“You know,” Dean said, “so I can text you about homework problems, or if we have to reschedule our meetings.” 

This was about as face-to-face as Dean and Castiel had been in the few days they’d been acquainted with each other, and the distress in Castiel’s bright blue eyes was evident as he rocked a bit on the balls of his feet.

“Um- I suppose that makes sense,” Castiel responded after a moment’s deliberation. “I will write it down for you.”

He fished a piece of paper and a pen out of his bag, and quickly scribbled his number on a paper, which he handed to Dean. “Do not call me.”

“Sure thing, man,” Dean smiled, pocketing the paper. “See you in class?”

Castiel hummed in agreement, then turned away from Dean and left the library without a word.

** _924 / 785-124-1967: _ ** _ hey, its dean _

** _924 / 785-124-1967: _ ** _ i was in the library to drop off something for mrs milton today and saw a paper that said there’d be a staff meeting there after school tomorrow _

** _925 / 785-124-1967: _ ** _ so we can’t study there _

** _926 / Castiel N: _ ** _ That is unfortunate. There are few other places within the school available after hours. _

** _926 / Dean Singer: _ ** _ maybe you could come over to my place? _

** _926 / Dean Singer: _ ** _ i live right across the street from the school, if you don’t have a ride _

** _927 / Castiel N:_ ** _ I suppose. _

** _927 / Dean Singer:_ ** _ great! :) ill send u my address in just a sec _

** _927 / Dean Singer:_ ** _ [Screenshot of Google Maps, featuring picture of Dean’s home and his address] _

** _928 / Dean Singer: _ ** _ there you go! wanna meet at entrance b after school tomorrow? _

** _928 / Castiel N: _ ** _ Okay. I will see you at three. _

Dean waited outside his and Castiel’s previously agreed upon entrance, checking the time on his phone every few minutes. Sure enough, Castiel strolled up at exactly three, trench coat billowing behind him. Dean shoved his phone back into the pocket of his letterman’s jacket and waved at Castiel.

“Pretty punctual, huh?” Dean joked.

Castiel looked up at him curiously. “I thought that three was the time we agreed to meet at, was it not?”

Dean frowned and gave a small shrug. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Let’s get going.” With that, he started towards his house, Castiel trailing close behind him.

Little conversation was had between the two of them; Dean picked up almost immediately that Castiel seemed not only to dislike, but be uncomfortable with small talk, especially with someone he wasn’t especially close to. Dean didn’t mind, though, as time with Castiel served as a break from the constant barrage of speech and commotion that accompanied life as an athlete. 

At one point, Dean was walking on the sidewalk when, all of a sudden, Castiel roughly shoved him to the side and shouted, dropping to his knees in the concrete. Dean fell backwards, and his backpack broke his fall. Castiel crouched on the sidewalk, quietly muttering to himself.

“Hey, what the fuck, man?” Dean yelled angrily, pushing himself up off the grass. He stood over Castiel, who hadn’t even acknowledged him. Castiel, oblivious to Dean, was carefully picking up a rather fat bee.

“Uh, is that a bee?” Dean asked, confused by the care Castiel was showing towards a bug.

“It’s a honey bee- _ Apis mellifera _\- and you almost stepped on it. Honey bees often travel up to three miles from their hive, and sometimes even farther.” Castiel looked at the small insect in his hand with fascination before slowly lowering it onto the grass. “Honey bees are an integral part of the growth and sustainment of world civilization. We would perish as cohesive societies without bees.”

Dean looked at Castiel with surprise- that was the most he had heard the other boy speak, well, ever. “Fuck, you sure love bees, huh?” Dean huffed.

“I do harbor a rather intense fascination with bees of all varieties. The honey bee just happens to be my personal favorite,” Castiel replied, frowning at Dean. “They are interesting and important creatures.”

“I can tell,” Dean laughed, then gathered his things before starting on their walk again. 

Once at his house, Dean unlocked the door and ushered Castiel inside. “My room’s at the end of the hallway to the right, and you don’t have to take off your shoes if you don’t want. I’m gonna grab some snacks, you can set up or do whatever you do.” Dean left to the kitchen, leaving Castiel to himself.

Castiel made his way to Dean’s bedroom, dropping his backpack by the door before carefully removing his coat and resting it on top. Dean’s room was surprisingly tidy- cleaner than Castiel’s, by far, with an assortment of music posters adorning the walls. Castiel could tell that Dean was a serious classic rock fan. Above his bed, a small ledge housed his wrestling awards.

Unsure of what to do while Dean did… whatever, Castiel took a seat on his bed, absentmindedly rocking and running trigonometry formulas through his head in preparation for their tutoring. After a few moments, Dean walked in carrying two sandwiches and two cans of Coke.

“Didn’t know what you liked, but I figured everyone likes PB&J, so that’s what I made!” Dean set his own food on his desk, then handed a sandwich to Castiel, whose eyes lit up as he accepted the sandwich and quickly took a bite.

“Pea’ut bu’er ‘n jelly’s m’ favorite,” he mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. Castiel finished chewing and swallowed before continuing. “What would you like to cover today?”

“Um… I never really got that longitude-distance stuff. Can we start with that?”

Castiel nodded once, and got up to pull materials from his backpack. Looking down at Castiel, Dean noticed a few things: one, that sans trenchcoat, Castiel was a little chubby- not a surprise, and two, that his profile was beyond beautiful. Dean caught himself staring before Castiel stood up again, spreading out his books on Dean’s comforter and taking his spot on the bed.

Dean shook his head and hastily flipped open his notebook. “Okay, so I get that it’s just the arc length formula, but…”

Castiel helped to explain some of the concepts they learned in class, and the two worked on some of their homework together. Satisfied with the chunk of the lesson they got though for the day, Dean slammed his textbook shut and leaned back in his chair. As Castiel fussed with his backpack, Dean checked the time, realizing they had gone a fair while past their usual time.

“Hey,” Dean started, leaning back in towards Castiel, who continued organizing his backpack, “Do you wanna stay for dinner? I could order a pizza.”

Castiel looked up at Dean. “Would your parents be willing to host me?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, my uncle’s always hassling me to have people over, says I ‘don’t have a life outside school’ or some shit.

“You live with your uncle?”

“Um, yeah,” Dean replied with a grimace. “Since a few years back. Parents bit the dust.”

“Oh,” Castiel replied. “That’s too bad. I would like thin crust cheese pizza, but I will eat pepperoni as well.”

Dean looked at Castiel with bewilderment, furrowing his brows and opening his mouth to respond before shaking his head. “I’m gonna go order some pizza.”

When the pizza arrived, Dean and Castiel sat on barstools at the counter of the Singer home’s rather small kitchen. Dean took a few slices of the meat lover’s for himself, and Cas ate slices of his cheese. Suddenly, the front door slammed open, and someone ran into the house, passing through the kitchen to grab pizza and huff out “Hi, Dean!” before disappearing into a room down the hall.

Castiel started, and turned to Dean and asked, “Who was that?”

Dean smiled. “That’s my little brother, Sammy. His debate practices run pretty late. He’s a freshman, if you were wondering.”

“Oh. He looks like you.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “but not nearly as hot, am I right?” He grinned.

Castiel squinted at Dean, and seemed to scan him up and down. “You do seem to possess more attractive features, though it is likely that over time, Sam will become more pleasing to the eye, as he is only fifteen.”

Dean stared back at Castiel, clearly flustered. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel said, and took another bite of his pizza.

Once they had finished their dinner, Dean suggested they watch a movie- The Bee Movie. Castiel didn’t find his suggestion amusing. Eventually, they settled on some weird ghost movie that Dean was totally into- Castiel, not so much.

“If they heard a strange noise, why are they sending people further into the home individually?”

“It’s a movie, Castiel, just watch i- Fuck!” Dean jumped at a startling scene, clinging tightly to a dingy throw pillow.

“I understand that the paranormal is typically found to be frightening,” Castiel said, “but the poor cinematography and formulaic plot make it difficult to be surprised by this film, which is where most of the appeal is.”  
  
Dean huffed and threw his pillow at Castiel, who just shrugged and added it to the nest he had built around himself on the sofa. 

Once the movie was over, and Dean was thoroughly scared, he turned to Castiel. “Hey, what time do you have to be- Oh, shit.”

Castiel had fallen asleep in his pillow nest, hugging the pillow he was resting on. Dean groaned and leaned over to shake him. “Castiel, wake up, you gonna go home,” he said, just loud enough to hopefully rouse Castiel without distressing him.

Castiel flopped over and sighed.

“God dammit, Castiel.” Dean got up off the sofa and readjusted the pillows around Castiel, then found a throw blanket from God-knows-when and draped it on top of him. Castiel hummed softly and nestled into the blanket.

“God, you’re cute,” Dean whispered, patting Castiel’s shoulder before heading to bed himself.

The next morning, Dean was the second to wake up, stretching in his bed before rolling out and starting his day. Sam, overachiever that he was, had already woken and gone about his typical morning rituals, and was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, eyeing Dean as he walked into the kitchen after dressing.

“Why is there a random guy on our sofa?”

Dean squinted at Sam, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Hm?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “There’s a boy passed out in the living room,” he said. “Look, I don’t mind you having…” He paused, deliberating on the right word. “_ Guests _, but at least let them take your damn bed like a proper host.”

“I’m not-” Dean huffed, glaring indignantly at Sam. “He’s not a _ guest _, he’s my trig tutor. He stayed for dinner, and fell asleep during the movie after. I didn’t wanna wake him.”

Sam grinned wickedly. “Dinner and a movie? I don’t know, Dean, that sounds an awful lot like a-”

“Like a what?” As if on cue, Castiel shuffled into the kitchen, hair and clothes adorably mussed from his awkward sleeping arrangement.

“Like a nice night!” Dean supplemented, covering up Sam’s teasing. 

“Yes, I did have a pleasant evening. You are not especially demanding company, which I appreciate.”

Sam smiled smugly at Dean, who glared back at him. 

“Well,” said Dean, “we should probably get ready for school so we’re not late. It’s already half past seven.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. “Yes, we should.” He turned to walk towards the bathroom, but suddenly paused. “Ah, I don’t have clean clothes, or a toothbrush, or any toiletries.

“Don’t worry,” replied Dean, “you can borrow some of my clothes, and we’ve got extra toothbrushes and stuff under the sink. Sammy’s convinced the apocalypse is nigh and hoards that shit.”

Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean. Dean gave him the finger.

“Well, I appreciate Sammy’s forethought. I will go prepare myself for the day.” Castiel gave a strained smile to Sam, and left for the bathroom.

Sam stared after him, then turned to Dean once he was out of earshot. “Well, your dating pool is becoming pretty diverse, isn’t it?”

Dean huffed and punched him in the shoulder. “Fuck off, dude. We’re not dating."

Sam snorted. “I bet. I haven’t seen anyone that uncomfortable since Ruby had to sit next to a Hagrid cosplayer at the Deathly Hallows premier.” 

“God, you’re such a nerd. And it’s not like that- he’s different, y’know? Not that big on the whole “human interaction” thing.”  
  
“No shit. He looked like someone was pulling his mouth open with meathooks when he smiled at me. And he called me ‘Sammy’!”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I didn’t introduce you as ‘Sam’ when he asked last night, so you’re kinda fucked on that one.”

“Yeah- and what’s with his name? ‘Castiel’?” Sam asked.

“Hey, it’s probably a family name, like yours, _ Samuel _.”

Sam glared at Dean. “Ugh, don’t call me that, it’s worse than ‘Sammy’.”

“Oh, so you prefer ‘Sammy’, then?” Dean teased. “I’ll make sure to call you that all the time from now own.” 

“Fuck off, Dean!” Sam punched Dean in the arm rather hard, considering his size. “I’m leaving early, I’ve got debate stuff to do. Don’t be late.” With that, Sam grabbed his backpack, slipped on his shoes, and left.

Dean smiled after his brother, then got himself a bowl of cereal. He sat at the counter in silence for a few moments before the sound of footsteps alerted him of Castiel’s presence. He swiveled around in his chair, and- 

Dean’s jaw dropped. Dean’s favorite jeans clung tight on Castiel, worn grey denim with rips in the thighs- not that Castiel seemed to mind. He was wearing Dean’s Metallica shirt as well, which hugged his body and accentuated the slight muffin top the jeans created. His hair was ever-messy, adding to the slightly punk look Castiel had going. He was gorgeous.

“These were the most comfortable clothes I could find in your wardrobe, which I took the liberty of going through as you did not select clothes for me yourself.”

Dean stared at Castiel for a few more seconds before realizing Castiel had spoken. “Uh, yeah, they’re uh- pretty comfy, yeah,” he stammered. “You look good.”

“I appreciate the compliment. However, these jeans are a bit tight, and I do not think I am helping the tears any,” Castiel said, looking down at the frayed holes at the tops of his thighs. “I believe you are significantly more toned than I am, as you are an athlete.”

Dean awkwardly shrugged, becoming more flustered by the minute. “Well, you- you know, don’t gotta exercise to be pretty- Not that you’re- you know, I mean- you’re really smart, though!” he finally blurted out.

Castiel cocked his head, thankfully not taking notice of Dean’s flustered stuttering. “Smart? Dean, I have consistently maintained Cs in all of my subjects except for trigonometry- which I’ve now taken twice, as I failed it the first time.”

“Well, yeah, but I see your grade when she posts them on the tackboard. You have an A now, at least!” Dean rebutted. 

“I use the 504 pass afforded to me by my enrollment in the special education program to avoid turning in my homework until I can actually focus long enough to finish it completely. If I was not afforded those accommodations, I would have a C or even lower now, as well.” 

“Oh. Well.” Dean shifted in his seat, unsure of how to respond. “Well, you’re smart enough to help me, and that’s what matters!” He adopted a cheery tone and got down from his stool, patting Castiel on the shoulder.

“Please don’t touch me.”

“Right.” Dean nodded and withdrew his hand. “I’m gonna go finish getting ready, then we can jet. Help yourself to the kitchen.”

“I will,” Castiel replied, looking after Dean as he retreated into the hallway. Castiel took on a puzzled expression, but shook his head and shrugged before searching the cabinets for food.

After Dean had washed up, and Castiel had enjoyed a bowl of Cheerios, the two gathered up their belongings. Castiel slipped on his trench coat, leaving it undone as always, before slinging on his backpack and putting on his sneakers. Dean put on his trusty leather jacket and slid his phone into his pocket, then grabbed his own backpack. 

“You ready?”

“I believe so.”

Castiel and Dean nodded to each other, and walked out the front door.

On their way to school, they didn’t talk at all, instead appreciating the peace and silence before entering the school building. Once at the doors, Dean smiled at Castiel, and said, “See you in class!” before they parted ways.

The school day progressed as expected, up until trigonometry. When Dean walked into class, Castiel was already in his seat, looking up at the board and popping his lips. Dean smiled at Castiel, again taking note of his clothes, which highlighted Castiel’s form. Dean internally thanked himself for not waking Castiel the previous night.

As the bell rang, Dean took his seat, and class began.

Trigonometry wasn’t an especially riveting class, its dependable regularity unfolding in the quick grading of homework, several pages of semi-indecipherable notes, and time at the end to do homework. As Dean was struggling with a particularly wordy word problem, the teacher called him and Castiel up front. 

“Mr. Singer,” she began, “going over your homework, it is clear that the tutoring Mr. Novak provides is helping. However, the lessons get progressively harder and with what we’re starting next class, I suggest meeting twice a week instead of once.”  
  
Dean turned to Castiel. “That won’t be a problem, right?”

Castiel nodded once. “No. We can meet Thursdays at the same time.”

The teacher clasped her hands together and gave an artificial smile to the boys. “Perfect! Now finish your homework.”

The two looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to their desks. The rest of class passed uneventfully, and Dean and Castiel parted ways at the bell until lunch. Instead of sitting with his normal crew- the portion of the wrestling team that were also seniors- Dean sought out Castiel, and found him sitting towards the back of the cafeteria with a rather intimidating looking girl.

Dean set his tray down and took a seat. “Heya, Castiel!”

Castiel slowly lifted his head, taking a moment to process the situation, and squinted at Dean. “Why are you sitting here?”

Dean leaned back a bit, shrugging uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, you know,” he said, “just thought it’d be nice to chill in a non-trig context.”

The girl next to Castiel snorted. “He wants to get into your pants, Clarence,” she said to Castiel. “Though it looks like you already got in his, huh?” She raised an eyebrow at Dean.

Dean huffed and squirmed a bit. “And you are?”

“Meg. If you’re trying to bang dear Castiel, just ask. He’s not that good with innuendo.”

Castiel glared at Meg. “He is not trying to ‘bang’ me, Meg. I tutor him in trigonometry.”

“Ah, tutoring, that’s how it starts. Next thing you know, he’ll have you moaning in-”

Dean loudly cut in. “Woah, hey, how about we not, ‘kay?”

Meg snorted, and went back to picking at the interesting concoction the school had served up. Castiel muttered something to himself before continuing with his lunch, slightly rocking all the while. Dean stared at the two for a moment, wondering what he got himself into, before starting into his lunch, which he ate in silence.

As Dean was finishing up his lunch, a group of boys from his wrestling team that shared that lunch period came up to the three’s table, leering at Castiel and Meg. The tallest of them enthusiastically slapped Dean on the back.

“So, hanging out with a retard, are ya, Singer?” he said loudly. Dean grimaced, but Meg responded before he could.

“Fuck off, Dick. Don’t you have a cock to suck?”

Dick flipped off Meg. “Eat shit, Masters. I’m not a faggot.” He returned his attention back to Dean. “For real, Singer. Why aren’t you sitting with us?”

Dean turned and glared up at Dick. “I’m sitting with Castiel because he doesn’t spend the entire lunch period talking about his _ dick _ in detail. And don’t call him a retard!”

Dick shrugged and turned to walk away, signaling the rest of his crew to follow. “Whatever, Dean. You don’t belong with these people, but whatever.” With that, the group left, none of them looking back. Dean slowly turned back to his tablemates, finding Meg staring daggers at him as Castiel looked down at the table, rocking back and forth in his chair and flicking his hands.

“Shit, I’m sorry, guys- I’ll talk to them, I thought they were better than that- Castiel, you okay?”

Castiel didn’t respond, and Meg answered for him. “He’s stressed out, now. Doesn’t like conflict. If you’re gonna sit with us, leave your shit somewhere else, okay?”

She leaned in to Castiel’s ear, making sure to keep a few inches distance. “You need the thing from your bag?” she murmured in his ear.

Castiel nodded and kept rocking. Meg dug through his backpack and pulled out a strange-looking rubber ring, which she handed to Castiel. He began twisting and squeezing it, and his rocking slowly stilled until he was sitting normally in his chair, playing with the ring.

Dean looked on in confusion. “You okay, man?” Again, Castiel didn’t reply.

Meg rolled her eyes and supplemented an answer. “He’s not talking for a while. Your gang freaked him out, and it probably doesn’t help since they made it seem like he was ruining your social life.” 

“Oh.” Dean looked down in shame. “If you don’t want me to sit with you again, that’s fine. I just- you’re a cool guy, Castiel, and- I dunno, I like spending time with you, I guess.”

Meg’s glare softened. “Clarence here is pretty awesome, huh? Obviously, you like each other-” she turned to Castiel. “You gotta tell me about the clothes later, ‘kay?” she smiled, then turned back to Dean, her expression instantly hardened. “Keep your shit friends away from Castiel or I’ll break your fingers with a meat tenderizer.”

Dean slowly nodded in understanding, seeing that Meg wasn’t joking. “I won’t,” he agreed. “I try to avoid them outside of practice. Dick has an incredibly appropriate name, in case you couldn’t tell.” Dean paused, and laughed a bit. “Sammy is always telling me to get new friends.”

Meg raised one eyebrow, and leaned forward. “Sammy? Like Sam Singer?”

“Yeah, him- why, you know him?” Dean asked.

“He’s friends with my little sister, Ruby.”

“Ooh, yeah! We’ve had her over before! Wait- are you Meg Masters?”

“The one and only,” Meg replied. “I’m a little concerned about what you’ve heard of me.”

Dean laughed. “Nothing bad, I swear! I think Charlie Bradbury- your girlfriend?- has talked about you once or twice. She runs the scoreboards in the gym.”

“Yeah, she’s mine. I’m always telling her that’s below her skillset.”

Dean nodded. “Totally, I’ve seen what she does on that laptop of hers- weird ass Matrix shit. I can’t wrap my head around it!”

“Right?” Meg smiled at Dean. “Weird how we’re so connected and we wouldn’t have known it if you weren’t bad at math and dear Clarence wasn’t good, huh?”

“No shit,” Dean agreed. Noticing that Castiel had been listening to their conversation the whole time, Dean turned to him. “I know you’re not like- talking, or whatever, but thanks a ton for doing all this tutoring stuff, dude, especially since you’re not big on people in general.”

Castiel looked up at Dean and gave him a thumbs-up before continuing to fidget with the ring.

Dean grinned, warmth spreading through him. “I’m gonna go put my tray up. See ya, Castiel!- And Meg!”

Meg waved at him as Dean stood and headed out of the cafeteria, and turned in to Castiel once Dean was gone. “Caught yourself a good one there, Clarence,” she said, softly smiling at him. Castiel huffed in response, his ducked head hiding the blush creeping up his face.

During his dinner of leftover pizza that night, Dean decided to text Castiel about lunch that day. Sam glared at him for his cellphone use when they were supposed to be having dinner, but didn’t say anything, as he could tell what was happening with Dean.

** _532 / Dean Singer:_ ** _ hey, i’m sorry about lunch today. those assholes shouldn’t have said that. _

** _532 / Castiel N:_ ** _ It is okay. I have heard worse. _

** _533 / Dean Singer:_ ** _ that’s not ok either!! _

** _534 / Castiel N:_ ** _ There is no use dwelling on it. It is fine, Dean. _

** _534 / Castiel N:_ ** _ By the way, your clothes are washed, but I am afraid that the holes are significantly more pronounced now. _

** _535 / Dean Singer:_ ** _ you can keep them, i don’t mind :) _

** _536 / Castiel N:_ ** _ I appreciate that, as they are very soft and broken in. _

** _536 / Dean Singer:_ ** _ and you look really good in them _

Dean stared at his phone, immediately regretting what he typed. Did Castiel even do relationships? Meg had made some comments, but nothing serious that he could tell. Sam smirked, having noticed Dean’s face heating up as he texted. “Texting your boyfriend, huh?”

Dean gave him the finger, and mumbled out “He’s not my boyfriend” before quickly turning back to his vibrating phone.

** _537 / Castiel N:_ ** _ Thank you. I imagine you look really good in them, as well. ;) _

Oh, god. He made a winky face. Dean groaned, and would have slammed his face into his plate if his phone hadn’t buzzed again.

** _538 / Castiel N:_ ** _ That was meant to be flirtatious. I am not sure if my tone was conveyed well. _

‘Meant to be flirtatious’. Dean’s eyes widened, and quickly responded.

** _538 / Dean Singer:_ ** _ yeah, it was. glad we’re on the same page ;) _

** _539 / Dean Singer:_ ** _ do you wanna come to one of my meets? next one’s saturday @ 6 _

** _540 / Castiel N:_ ** _ I would enjoy that. I will see you there. _

Dean grinned widely at his phone, in disbelief that his little crush on his math tutor had escalated so quickly and smoothly into this. Sam smiled at him, appreciating that Dean was so happy about something for once. He also appreciated that Dean was distracted enough to not notice Sam slowly taking his plate for himself. All Dean could think about was Castiel’s presence as- his boyfriend? Friend?- at his wrestling meet.

Dean was buzzing with excitement that day, anxious for Castiel to see him at his meet. He texted Castiel a few times, confirming the time and setting a place to meet up, but besides that, Dean didn’t talk to him until just before the meet. Dean was changing into his uniform, fastening his helmet and chatting with the other boys on the team, when the door opened and Castiel, wearing Dean’s shirt and his ever-present coat billowing behind them, strolled past everyone right up to Dean.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean was speechless, staring back at Castiel- as was everyone else. He blinked for a moment, then smiled widely as he stepped close to his friend. “You came!”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Castiel asked.

“Well, I figured sports meets aren’t really your game,” Dean said, “‘cause, you know, people.”

“Tutoring random boys on the wrestling team is not ‘my game’, either, Dean, but here we are.”

Dean practically glowed, and nearly threw his arms around Castiel, but held himself back. “Well. I’ll see you in the bleachers?” Dean asked.

“Of course,” Castiel responded, “I cannot wait to see you.” He gave Dean a slight smile, then spun around and walked right out of the room. As he left, a few boys snickered, muttering “faggot” and other choice words after him. Dean glared murderously at the most vocal boys, who looked away, knowing that he could easily beat them up. 

Dean spent the rest of the time before his match doing stretches, trying to focus on doing his best for Castiel to see. When he was finally called into the gym, Dean leapt up, and jogged into the gym. His eyes immediately started scanning the bleachers to find his friend, but he didn’t have to search long. Castiel was sitting right in front of the mat, just two seats above the score table. When they made eye contact, Castiel waved at Dean, who smiled back, showing off his mouthguard.

That match was easily the best Dean had ever done. He took down his opponent in just a few moments, and beat his personal time record. As the referee held up Dean’s arm, the cheers from the student section faded away as his eyes found Castiel’s, who was standing, hands clasped, staring intently at Dean.

Castiel climbed down off the bleachers while Dean left the mat, and followed him into the locker room. Dean dropped onto the bench and just started to change when Castiel entered.

“You did very well. I am impressed by how strong you are,” Castiel said. He squinted at Dean up and down, in a way that was equal parts weird and kind of hot. The taller shrugged and gave Castiel a half-smile.

“Well, now you know what I do with my free time. Wrestle hot, nearly-naked guys in front of an audience.”

“There was,” Castiel came up close to Dean, looking up into his sap green eyes with a curious expression, “quite a lot of physical contact.”

“Kinda part of the sport description there, Castiel.”  
  
Castiel twisted his mouth as he planned his next words. “I do not think… I would be opposed to physical contact. With you. In moderation.”

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Thought touch was a no-no for you.”

“Only when I am in an already taxing environment. Or with unfamiliar people.”

“So I’m familiar after only a few days, huh?” Dean smiled widely, and took Castiel’s hand with his own. “Must be pretty special to crack your shell, then.”

Castiel blushed, but didn’t shy away from the contact like before. “You treat me differently, Dean- Well, you do not treat me differently. You take my eccentricities in stride where many people dwell on them, and do not think any less of me for them. I appreciate that.”

Dean stood silent for a moment, gently massaging Castiel’s hand with his thumb. He then pulled away from the smaller boy, who looked up at him in confusion.

“Let me get dressed, and we can maybe go back to my place?” Dean suggested. Castiel nodded in agreement, and stepped back.

“I will be outside. I would prefer not to be harassed by the rest of the wrestling team.”  
  
Dean grimaced. “Yeah, sorry about that, again. I’ll kick their asses later.”

Castiel stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Dean.” He gave a little half-wave before walking out, and left holding his hand up to where Castiel kissed him. 

The events of the last half-hour or so were finally setting in for Dean. He and Castiel had gone from tutoring and one flirtatious text to heartfelt confessions and a _ kiss _ \- only on the cheek, but from _ Castiel, _ who only recently flinched at his touch. Regardless of how fast things were happening between them, things were happening, and Dean loved it.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I know that a week is pretty fast for a relationship to go from "sharing a class" to "sharing clothes", but they're highschoolers. That's just how it be.


End file.
